Piano Keys
by yesfangirlingismylife
Summary: Tris and Tobias are journalists, constantly at each other's throats, competing to be the best advice columnist of Chicago. Uptown vs. Downtown. Beach vs. park. But, ultimately, it comes down to woman vs. man. Tobias and Tris face the worst possible circumstance: Working together for a combined article. What happens when their rivalry turns into an unlikely affinity for each other?
1. Chapter 1

**Piano Keys**

Chapter 1

Intro

 _Dear Prior, here is something to provoke you:_

 _I have a big problem. As a 16-year-old high school student, I am convinced my mother's new boyfriend is the reincarnation of Satan. He always tries to boss me around, tries to be my new dad, and, worst of all, he never does it in front of my mom. He always acts like a perfect angel around her, and then when I'm home alone with him he's always huge jerk. Whenever I try to tell Mom about it, she just blows it off and thinks I'm overreacting. My mom deserves the perfect guy, and he is definitely not it. Help!_

 _~Concerned Daughter_

 _Dear Concerned Daughter, here is something to provoke you:_

 _So you think your mother's new boyfriend is Satan's incarnate, huh? This is a frequent situation that, unfortunately, a lot of teens are put through nowadays. You need to realize that if this guy really makes your mother happy, then you need to let her be. Have you ever considered that maybe you're not ready for a new guy in your life, but your mom is? Maybe if you let him in, have a nice sit-down dinner with a good talk, you'll end up really approving of him for your mother._

 _~Provoked Prior_

I harrumph as I read my rival's advice. It's ridiculous. Personally, I would've told Concerned Daughter to get over herself. Well, not exactly. I'd put it in nicer words. Tris is so naïve. It's blatantly obvious that she's a newbie and doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. I, however, have been doing this for four years. It's all I've known since I graduated college.

I toss the Montrose Mirror into the trash bin beside my table at the coffeehouse.

Tris Prior is the best advice columnist I've had the pleasure of butting heads with. She gives guidance in the nicest possible way, even though that doesn't always work. She takes risks, and I think that's why she is so well-liked. Even by me. She's extremely callow, and that's also another reason she's good at what she does. She writes the first thing that pops into her head. She's one of the first advice columnists that has morals and uses them in their writing.

Yeah. Journalists don't have morals.

Maybe that's what makes Tris stand out as a journalist. Maybe that's reason she gets so much fan mail and good feedback, is what I'm saying.

Not only do we get readers from Illinois, but most of America. We're kind of known for our little rivalry. Well, not exactly little. It's pretty huge. It's frequently in the news about the latest roast we've given each other. Most of the mean things I say I don't even mean. It's mostly publicity stunts.

I'm not saying that I hate her, but I definitely don't think highly of her. I think that she's naïve and way in over her head. I respect her as a writer, but her personality is something that I don't have high regard for.

She's one of those people that you have to like because everyone else loves her. She is so nice, to the extent where she is _too_ nice. There's only a certain extent to kindness that I can handle. She needs to learn to be more aggressive. You never get anything your way or win any arguments without being a little assertive, right? Though I've never met her in person, she's been featured on radio shows, interviewed on some nationwide news programs, and, of course, I read her column. In person could be much different though, so I shouldn't get this preconceived idea in my head.

I am Tobias Eaton (more commonly known as Four), advice columnist for the Burnham Park Bee. It also happens that my father runs the newspaper I work for. I'd rather not go into detail about that though.

I turn back to my laptop and take a sip of my coffee. I continue composing my responses to my writers, and then I see someone mount above me, standing just in front of my table.

"I saw you read my column," she says, "and then I saw you toss it out."

I look up. I'm met with a girl dressed in black leggings and a gray nike off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. Her hair is up in a surprisingly sexy messy bun, and she wears black Vans on her feet. She is blindingly beautiful.

"Ah," I begin. "Yes. Please sit."

She glares. She knows something is up.

"Nice finally meeting you, Tris."

She smirks. "Likely. Now get to the point. If anyone sees us together the press will have it spread across the country faster than you can blink."

Maybe she's not too nice after all.

"I have a proposition for you."

"What might that be?" she asks, questionably raising her eyebrow.

I smile. "I want you to work with me."

She laughs for a good half minute before realizing that I'm completely serious, because when she does, her laughs fades, and so does her smile. I don't take her offensive laugh to heart. In fact, I think it was quite funny.

"Wait, seriously?" she asks.

I smirk. She's funny. "I am very serious. I think you have a great deal of potential. And since we are two of the brightest columnists out there, I think that if we put our heads together, then we could gain readers by the thousands. Plus, we could get so much publicity from television interviews, radio interviews… you know, stuff like that."

She is so surprised her eyebrows are about up to her hairline. "We can't _work together_ , Four. We have one of the biggest rivalries in the nation. We can't work together," she repeats, as if she is disturbed.

I give a crooked smile. "I told my editor about this plan, and she loved it. She knew I was extremely persuasive, so, you know, I got your email from my editor. I figured it'd be worth a shot to ask."

"Points for bravery. But I don't know…," she says ambiguously.

I close my laptop and offer Tris a smile. Then, I stand, grab my coffee, and say, "Think about it. Let me know in two days, by Friday. Here's my personal and business numbers." And then I throw in a wink with it.

I stalk out of the urban coffeehouse, and then begin to walk in the direction of my office.

When I first got the idea, I knew that she'd be reluctant. But something I hadn't expected was for her to be… Well, not aggressive, but she was definitely assertive. I was expecting her to be super slap-happy and chipper, but she was definitely confident in who she was and, well, that wasn't exactly a bad thing.

I'm not saying she's this perfect masterpiece. Sure, she's absolutely stunning, she has a bright personality, and is very successful, but it was also clear that she was a walking disaster. Bags under her eyes, fingers calloused, and dressed as if she didn't have a care in the world. She had deadlines to meet so she was staying up all hours of the night, and her fingers were worn out from typing so much, probably. She was painted with beauty and tragedy.

I know these things because I experience the same. Being an advice columnist sucks pretty badly. But the ability to help people is so provocative that sometimes I can't believe it's what I actually do. I love being able to make differences in people's lives.

All I can help thinking is that I want to get to know the real Tris Prior, and that, hopefully, she will be able to provoke me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _Helllllooooo. I'm Reese. This is my story. I hope you enjoy it. I should be updating every Wednesday and Friday :)_

* * *

 _"If this is heaven, I need something more. Just a place to be alone, 'cause you're my home."_

I hum along to the lyrics as I clean my apartment. I pick up stray clothes strewn across my flat, take the stray cups and plates, place them in the sink, and then put them in the dishwasher. I have three main speakers in my penthouse: One in the living room, one in the kitchen, and in my bedroom. I live on the top floor in the penthouse. It's a great luxury, but I have no one to share the opulence with. It's somewhat of a blessings and a curse.

I want a girl to spend all of my money on, treat like a princess, give her everything she's ever wanted. But more importantly, I don't want her to care about my money. I want her to care about _me_. Rich or poor. Every girl I've tried to date the past four years has only cared about my income. Hence the reason I don't date anymore. I'm simply putting my heart on hold. And if I catch feelings, then we'll see where it goes, I suppose. I really just want to remain single though. I'm done searching. Whatever is meant to happen will happen all in good time.

Seeing the red light of the buzzer light up, I press the button for the receptionist on the bottom floor to speak.

"Yes, Michelle?" I ask.

"There is someone down here for you. Want me to send them up?"

"Go for it."

I went back to the sink and finished up the last of the dishes.

A ding of the elevator made me turn to see who it was.

To say the least, I was pleasantly surprised.

The very provoking Tris Prior is the masterpiece that walks out of the elevator.

She immediately gives a coy smile. "Arcade Fire. Good band," she yells over the music.

I scramble for my phone and turn the music to a low volume so we can speak at a normal volume, but still listen to the music.

"Sorry about that," I say awkwardly. "I wasn't expecting anyone. I was just tidying up."

She gave a shy smile. "It's okay. I'm sorry about just popping in here. I contacted your editor and she gave me the address. I hope you don't mind. I just wanted to swing by to give you a last minute answer about what we talked about on Wednesday. Oh," she said, holding up something in her hand. "And this." It was a newspaper. A bullshit gossip newspaper that nobody believed. "The National Enquirer."

I gently grab it from her hands and read the headline: _"PROVOKING PRIOR AND FOUR: BUSINESS OR LOVE?"_

There was another legitimate and honest local newspaper behind it that read: _"TRIS AND FOUR: FINALLY FRIENDLY?"_

I chuckle and toss it onto the coffee table. "Only one of those things is true," I say.

"The business part, I presume," she says with a chuckle. "I would like to accept your offer. I talked to my editor about what we spoke about, and she loved the idea. The only thing is that she wants us working on it right away. As in tonight," she chuckled. "She wanted me to ask if you were free this evening, but, you know, it's a Friday so—"

"I have no plans, Tris," I chuckle. "Come in, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?"

She smiles. "I have a feeling we'll be at this for a while. Any coffee?"

I nod and wave her into the kitchen. "Of course. Come pick out what kind you like."

She tiptoes into the kitchen in her bare feet, since she was previously wearing sandals. She wears jeans and a plain, cream-colored, loose top. Her hair is naturally down, not curled or straightened. She wears a minimal amount of makeup. She is her own kind of beautiful.

She stands on her tiptoes, reaching for the french vanilla coffee grounds.

"Shorty," I say, smirking. I easily reach over her and grab the bag. "How tall are you?"

She frowns. "5'2."

I chuckle and put the grounds into the filtered cup. "You're pretty short."

She leans against the counter. "Tell me about it."

"There's creamer in the fridge, if you'd like some."

She grabs the french vanilla creamer and sets it down.

"Why do you have such an ancient coffee maker when everything else is so…"

"Modern?" I finish for her. "I've had this sucker since I was sixteen. Besides, I drink my coffee black, so I don't really need anything fancy."

She scrunches her nose. "You're one of _those_ people?"

I laugh. "So what if I am?"

She just smiles.

"Funny how, since we're _rivals_ , we're having a not-so-bad time," she says.

I smile. "I've never despised you as a writer. Mostly just your personality. I always thought you were too nice."

She laughs. "Same to you. I've just always thought you were an asshole with too harsh of advice."

I smirk. "Only a bit. You just gotta get to know me a little."

"No thanks," she says with laugh.

Laughing, I pour the coffee into a mug. "If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot."

She grabs the mug. "Cliché. But I love that song," she says, sipping her coffee.

I smile. "C'mon. My office is this way."

She grabs her laptop bag and follows me down the hallway.

"Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom, movie room, office," I say as we walk down the hallway. "Mi casa es tu casa."

A pause. "Doesn't look like much of a home," she says quietly. "Just a house."

I shrug. "You're right. I have no one I care about to share it with the make it a home. All it is is necessary living demands with a little bit of luxury. Hopefully one day I can actually find someone I love that loves me as much as Kanye West loves Kanye West."

A chuckle comes from her, but it's a sad one. "Are you sure we should be doing this? Working together, I mean."

"No. It's wrong, but we'll do it anyway, because we love a bit of trouble," I tell her with a wink.

She smiles and sits down in the extra office chair. My "office" is simple. It has paper clips in a little jar, post-it notes, copy paper, a printer, scissors, pens, pencils, a speaker, and, most importantly, a mini-fridge with beer and sodas reserved for the late-night writing.

All that lies in the center is my laptop. I sit in my chair next to Tris and open my laptop, then go to my ideas for a collaborative column.

"So," I say, getting down to business, "these are my ideas. My best ideas or at the top, worst at the bottom. The one I'd really like to work on with you is the very first one. It's a little risky, but I think you'll like it. The readers mostly ask about love. At least 70% of time. So, why don't we do a collaborative on love? A woman vs. man perspective. We do this column twice a week. Fridays and Mondays would probably be our best options. We do a topic for the title, then give our perspectives. For example, 'First Date.' Then we'd give our ideal first date."

Her eyebrows are nothing but risen when I finish. "Four, you are a _genius._ "

I bashfully smile.

She grins wider than before. "This is going to—to _blow up_ , Four! It's—"

"Tobias," I tell her. "You should know that if we're going to be real partners. All I ask is that you don't tell anybody, okay?"

She nods. "Gotcha. So are we going to keep up this false rivalry, or…?"

I shrug. "I was going to leave that up to you."

She nods. "I think we should keep it up. If people read our stuff, they're going to want to see the angst and tension between us. They're going to buy the paper every Friday wanting more conflict. People love watching other people's problems. And we can still do those daily roasts we always do. But to get more attention from the press and public, Saturday of next week, we should be seen out in public together, or something. So if we publish our joined column on Friday, we be seen Saturday, and it'll hit national news by Sunday. Rumors spreading that we're secretly in love or have a love/hate relationship… Tobias, this is going to be a national craze!"

I smile at her excitement. "Yes. Yes, it is."

We discuss our plans and write a little bit of our first column together. She leaves at around eleven o'clock, and we're both pretty satisfied with our writing.

When the elevator closes, I sulk back into my office. I hate my editor. I hate, hate, hate her. I can't do this to Tris. I can't. Not after spending the entire evening with an amazing girl like her.

I click on one of my recent documents on my laptop labeled: "How To Get Your Enemy To Love You In 14 Days."

I look what I have written so far.

"Day #1: Don't act too nice; they'll get suspicious. You gotta play it cool. Act casual. A little bit of winking or flirting here and there. You must keep them much farther than arm's length. Make them wonder. Make them want you before you can even consider wanting them. If you're normally rude, continue doing so, except at a smaller scale."

Day #2: Act as if nothing happened on day one. Completely ignore them. Don't even _think_ about hitting them up. You stand your ground.

Day #3:"

My day three is blank. Today is the third day.

How am I supposed to write this article if I don't actually consider her my enemy? To everyone else in the world, I am her worst enemy, and she mine. It's going to be impossible to bullshit half of this thing. Impossible. How could I do this to her? All for, what—? A job?

Yet I contradict myself once again as I begin to write day three.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _So, a lot of you are wondering if I copied How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days. I didn't. I've watched that movie one time and I was, like, eleven. I hardly remember it. All I remember is the pretty yellow dress. I read the synopsis for 10 Days, and I guess it does kinda sound like this story. But in no way did I intentionally "copy" it. If I write something loosely based off of a TV show/movie, I will give the rightful credit. Also, a particular person is a little upset over the last few paragraphs in Ch. 2… I never mentioned anything about Tobias being a "fuckboy." If anything, I said the opposite. I described his relationship status in the beginning of the chapter. He's not like that. Not in this story._

* * *

I run my fingers along the piano I haven't played in so many years. At least four. Dust ends up on my finger, and I sigh, frustrated with myself. I allow myself to sit on the much-too-dusty bench, and I grab a cloth and wipe off the black and white keys, along with the bench. I sit down on the bench with a sigh as I close my eyes. I lie my hands across the keys, like my mother always would, and I play the song I have memorized by heart. I've memorized it so well that no warmup is even needed, despite my rusty fingers. When I begin, I can't help but sing along.

"The mirror's image tells me it's home time, but I'm not finished, cause you're not by my side. And as I arrived, I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes. Decided once again that I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you. Now it's three in the morning and I'm trying to change your mind… Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply: _Why'd you only call me when you're high?_ "

I'm interrupted by a _ding_ of the elevator closing, and my hands fall against the piano keys, making an unpleasant sound of the wrong keys and the wrong matches.

"Tris," I say simply. I have never played in front of anybody. Well, nobody I really knew. Just my college professor for my final exam at Northwestern.

"You—," she begins excitedly, then stops, and breathes. "That was amazing, Tobias."

I crease my eyebrows and abruptly stand up. "What are you doing here?" I say slightly more aggressive than I originally intended to.

She looks down. "I—I'm, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to barge in and interrupt you. It's just that Michelle let me in since I've been here so much recently over the past two days… Ah, our article got published today," she says, as if I hadn't known. "Sales are through the roof, according my editor. I just wanted to tell you that. I could've just called… I'm sorry," Tris says with an awkward laugh. "I'll just be going."

"No," I say, gently grab her arm and turning her around. "I'm sorry, I've never played for anyone, and my voice isn't that great, and—"

"Tobias, you're voice is _stunning_. Really. And the fact that it was Arctic Monkeys makes it about ten times better," she says smiling, then walking over to the stringed instrument. "I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano." Then, much like I'd done earlier, Tris dragged her finger across the black and white keys, making the pitch start at the bottom, then work its way to the top.

I follow her over and urge her to sit down on the piano bench.

"Go crazy," I tell her.

She plays Mary Had A Little Lamb.

"Tris," I laugh.

She laughs too. "It's the only thing my brother taught me how to play. He didn't have enough patience to tolerate me when I was nine."

I laugh again and bend down over her, and keep my head just above her left shoulder. I place her hands on the keys I want to play and rest my hands on hers. I hear her suck in a quick breath, but I don't bother to think about it or mention it. "Okay," I tell her softly. "Relax your fingers. You need to stay loose."

She let's out a shaky breath, the same one she's sucked in all those seconds ago. "Got it."

"Okay. Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. Clear your mind."

She does as told.

"Ready?" I ask.

She turns toward me, and her eyes flick down to my lips. She's close enough to kiss. "Mhm," she says distractedly, then turns back.

I press down on her fingers, triggering the keys I wish her to play.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathe in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I won't ever rust. If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe, I just wanna be yours. Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours."

I only go that far, and then I stop. We stay still, unmoving.

She leans up toward me, and says, "You wanna go out tonight?"

Bold move.

"You know, for publicity," she says, clearing her throat, then looking back at the keys. "Since our article came out and everything related to news is stalking me."

I remove my hands and sit down on the bench next to her. "Sure. How about the Navy Pier?"

"I love the pier," she responds simply.

"It's only five o'clock, so why don't we work until around 7 o'clock-ish?"

She gives a forced smile. "Sounds great."

I stand back up and walk over to the kitchen. "Want a snack until we leave? I've got all kinds of candy—It's like a movie theatre in here," I say with a chuckle.

"Sour Patch Kids?" she asks with hope and a genuine smile creeping on her face.

I smirk and toss a box in her direction. She catches it with one hand and opens the bag within the box.

She takes a red gummy and pops it into her mouth, and when it hits her tongue, she makes a sour face, scrunching it all together. She picks herself up, grabs her laptop, then takes herself into my office.

I smile. She's too cute.

I, myself, prefer peanut butter m&ms, so I grab a bag of those, then follow Tris into the office.

She already has her glasses on and is studying what she'd previously written the previous day. She pops a sour candy into her mouth, and then begins to type.

"I was thinking—," she says while typing and still facing the laptop, "what if we have the same opinion?"

I smirk. "That won't happen."

"But if it does…?"

"Then we change one of our opinions or rethink a different way to say what we really mean."

She nods. "Okay."

"So our second column/piece about the way a woman/man likes their significant other to dress. Thoughts?"

She shrugs. "I've always liked guys who don't wear sweatpants or gym shorts every day outside of the workplace. If it's casual I like the jeans or khaki cargo shorts with a simple hoodie or t-shirt displaying their favorite sports team," she chuckled. "And a ball cap, relying on the weather. Depending on the hair, I do like beanies for both myself and men. However, if they wear them wrong then it totally throws off their whole outfit. Anyway, for the workplace or a date, I like the whole button-up shirt with half-rolled sleeves. And a watch. Plus nice shoes. Oh, and if they have the right frame of glasses… mm. Damn."

I smile discreetly and look away.

I start a mental checklist of the outfit I currently wear.

Button-up? _Check._

Rolled sleeves? _Check._

Watch? _Check._

Nice shoes? _Check._ Well, not at the moment. But I wore them today.

Glasses? _Well, sorta._ I have glasses, but I usually wear my contacts. I have to wear my glasses in the evening, but I haven't been putting them on due to the fact Tris has been over every evening.

"Glasses, you say?"

She raises an eyebrow in confusion, then sudden realization hits her. "You have glasses!"

I sigh. "I usually wear them when I take out my contacts, but since you've been over, I haven't been wearing them. I don't wear them in front of anybody," I tell her nervously.

"And you also have never played piano for anybody before until today. So you might as well, Tobias."

I sigh yet again and then I open my lens case. I unfold the frame and set them on my face, allowing my eyes to see clearly again.

I roll my eyes. "Satisfied?"

Her eyes scan my entire outfit, then rest on my face. Hers wears a smirk. "Very."

If this girl can get me to play piano in front of her _and_ put on my glasses, I am almost certain she can get me to do anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _So for those of you unaware, this **is**_ _a short story, so things progress on a little faster than what they normally would in one of my regular stories. Beware._

* * *

A little while after seven o'clock we ended up going to a Mexican restaurant on the beach near the Navy Pier.

As we sit, waiting for our meal, I get to know her a little more, which is something I'm thankful for. I've spotted one newsperson so far, but we've only been dining for around fifteen minutes. I figured someone would tip them off about Tris and I being here, and I expected they'd be here within the hour. I'm slightly terrified about what they'll see when they arrive, which looks much like date. I guess it kind of is though, in all honestly. Tris may not consider it a date, but I do. Mostly.

"So," she says, taking a sip of her beer, "how'd you learn to play piano like that?"

I shrug and take a sip of my beer too. "I taught myself when I was fifteen. And since my dad wasn't home much, I'd have my mom come over and teach me a little bit. I mostly taught myself because she usually only came over once a week to teach me some little stuff about the piano. There was a music store just down the road from where I lived when I was a kid, so one day I decided to go buy a beginner's piano book that teaches you how to play. My dad had this old piano downstairs in the living room that was dusty as hell. So I figured why the hell not? And he was never home, so I played all hours of the day. I never told him about it. The fact that I play piano. He's had my future figured out for me from the moment I was born. He runs the Bee. You know. The newspaper I work for," I say bitterly. I see her mouth drop to a slight "o" and her eyebrows rise. "Yeah. I've never wanted to be an advice columnist, to be honest. But it pays well. Everything else sucks. All of it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love writing. I'm actually writing a book right now. But advice-giving is not for me. But one good thing did come out of this job," I tell her with a smirk.

She gives a sad smile. "What's that?"

"You."

She chuckles. "Well-played. But if you don't want to be an advice columnist, then what _do_ you want to be?"

I give her a sideways smile as I look out to the lake. "Guess."

"Guess?"

"Guess."

She shrugs. "I don't know. I could see you being a novelist as a side job. But for your main job I feel like you'd be good with kids. Maybe a piano teacher?"

I chuckle and turn back to her, sipping my beer. "Spot-on. I want to be an elementary choir director. For, like, sixth graders. Possibly fourth or fifth."

"I thought you had stage fright," she says.

I laugh. "That's because I do. A small price to pay to do what you love."

She scratches her head. "So why don't you quit?"

I breathe out. "I don't know. I feel like you and I are too deep into this rivalry thing. But I think I'm going to be quitting within the next two months. I've been looking for job openings in the surrounding area. But if I don't take a job now, then when? There's an opening at a local school about ten minutes from where I live. It's in a small outskirt just outside downtown. The opening starts after their Christmas break. And I think I'm going to take it."

Tris pretends to look happy for me. I can tell. She gives a smile and pretends she's okay with it. "That's amazing Tobias. I hope you achieve all happiness," she says, then sips her beer. "But I'm not going to lie. I'll miss you."

"Maybe we can actually go out and do things with out five photographers taking pictures of us." I grab her hand from across the table.

She smiles and takes my hand too. "Where at?" she asks, covering her curiosity so the photographers don't know she knows.

"One behind the tree," I say, chuckling, faking, smiling, "one at a table, one pretending to have a picnic with another girl photographer, one at the bar, and one sitting on the bench to your right."

She smirks. "Keen eye. And just remember"—Her eyes flick to our joined hands—"this is a publicity stunt." She winked.

"Stunts are dangerous… Wanna do something dangerous?" I ask with a glint of the devil in my eye.

"What do you want to do?" she asks with a hint of eagerness present.

"I want you to let me kiss you."

She almost chokes on her beer. "I apologize, I don't believe I heard you correctly."

I laugh. "I think you heard me just fine, dearest Tris."

She ponders the thought for a minute. "We'll see."

Our waiter sets down our plates in front of us, and we disconnect our hands.

I smile, rub my hands together, and say, "Let's eat."

—

—

—

—

—

—

When we finish our meals, I'm eager to leave and go have a little fun at pier.

We leave the restaurant and decide to head to the pier to walk on the beach and go have a little fun at the arcade. Possibly ride the ferris wheel too. The thought of that makes me uneasy, but she seemed pretty excited about it.

"Where to first?" I ask. "Arcade, ferris—"

"Tobias! Tris! May I—!"

"Tris Prior of the Montrose Mirror!"

"Four of the Burnham Bee!"

"Please, a word?"

"What are you two doing together?"

The reporters are less than ten feet away, running toward us. Before, they were being discreet, but now they want answers. A mixture of these phrases ring in my ears, and the only thing I say to Tris is "run."

I grab her hand and we sprint toward the ferris wheel. The reporters and newspeople run faster than a bullet, attempting to chase us.

The doors to the ferris wheel are about to close and make a circle around the sky for a view of the Chicago skyline for the next five minutes.

"Wait!" Tris yells. "Please don't close the doors!"

The attendant to the wheel smirks, looks behind us, and then nods us to let us in.

"Big fan of you two," the man said to us with a wink. "Have fun and enjoy the ride."

The crowd is almost to the doors. They are about to close, and Tris stands close to my body.

"Live dangerously," she says, looking up at me, and then she kisses me. I heard the snaps of cameras and the shouts of shock from reporters. But it all blurred out as her lips connected with mine. The sounds became faint noises as the doors close, and when we're up in the air, she stands flat on her feet, no longer on her tiptoes. Her arms remain wrapped around my neck, and I give her a surprised smile. She reflects that same look. Suddenly, our smiles fade, and quickly lean down press my lips to hers. Her lips are like the galaxy's edge, and it's like I'm willingly diving into that black hole. Her hands travel through my hair, like if I was a drug and she was totally vulnerable to overdosing. It is as if she has to get her hands on me, as if she needed just a little bit more. Too much is never enough for Tris Prior. She wouldn't stop until she got enough.

Which, enough was never actually enough.

I press my hand against her cheek, and then pulls back, ever so slightly. And then she pulls herself away from my grasp. She stations herself on the other side of the gondola lift-type thing.

"That should not have happened," she says nervously.

"But it did."

She looks out to Lake Michigan.

Stepping toward her warily, I am careful not to make the balance of the gondola uneven. When I am near, I tilt her chin up to mine effortlessly, and then I gently kiss her, condensing the space between us.

Then, ever so faintly, I whisper, "Live dangerously."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _So must of you asked about how many chapters this story would be… I think we're looking at about five-seven more, so around 10-12 total chapters. Not really sure. I go wherever the plot line takes me. I'm just along for the ride. And this is hardcore fluffy. Be prepared._

* * *

When we get off of the ferris wheel, there are ten more photographers added to the group. We put on our sunglasses and make a run for it off the pier. They chase us, but eventually give up when we go to board the L-train.

We breathe heavily out of excitement, and then we laugh. She laughs against me, putting all of her weight on me. She lays her head on my chest with her hand next to her head. I lean against the pole on the subway as it moves, and I wrap my arms around her.

We laugh a little more.

"Next stop, Downtown, Burnham Park, one minute," the loudspeaker says.

"That'd be you," she says with a sad smile. "It's been real." She slowly stands up on her tiptoes and gently kisses the corner of my mouth.

"Surreal, but nice," I say.

"Did you just quote Notting Hill?" she asks with a small smirk.

I shrug. "Is that something you find attractive?"

She grins. "Yes."

"Then yes. I did just quote to biggest chick flick of all time."

She laughs again, and then kisses me on the lips. I hear the doors open, and then I pull her off the train with me.

"Tobias," she says, annoyed, "the next train won't be here for twenty minutes."

I shrug. "I guess you'll just have to spend the night. You know, I don't want you walking out alone. In the dark. And stuff."

"Tobias…," she says unsurely. "I don't know."

"Oh come on. I have an extra bedroom just _waiting_ to be used, Tris."

She breathes out, giving up. "Fine."

She begins to walk the opposite direction of my place. I smirk and grab her hand, twining our two limbs. "This way, love."

When we arrive, she goes to the kitchen for a water, and then into the office. I sit down next to her and open my laptop.

"What do you look for in a woman? Clothing wise, that is," she asks as she finishes the sentence she's typing.

I shrug and turn toward her. "I don't know. For casual I like jeans or jean shorts and then a t-shirt or hoodie, weather permitting. For fancy, like the workplace or or a date, dresses and skirts are nice. I don't know though. But if I had to pick, it'd just be at home, like a movie date or something, and she's in sweatpants and a giant hoodie with her hair up and no makeup on. That, that right there, would be the best thing in the world."

She smiles. "I frequently do that, except I'm always alone," Tris says, then chuckles.

"We should do that. Together, I mean."

She nods. "We should."

I take a deep breath. "I'm going to go and get some candy. Want anything?"

She shakes her with a kind smile. "No. Thanks."

"Okay. I'll be right back." I lay my hand on her cheek and kiss the top of her head.

I grab candy (peanut butter m&ms and Sour Patch Kids) and change into comfortable sweatpants and go shirtless.

When I walk back into the office, she is working hard on her piece.

I quietly walk up behind her, set down the candy, and then I kiss the dip of her neck, which she gladly opens. I pepper kisses from her neck to her jawline, then up to her cheek. I move to the corner of her lips, and then she stands, full-on kissing me.

She moves her lips back, just an inch. "This is such a bad idea."

"I know."

"You shouldn't kiss me again."

"I know," I breathe.

She looks me in the eye, and I look her in the eye. I kiss her again and press her against the nearest wall.

I sprinkle her neck with kisses. "Living room," she says breathlessly. "Nothing can happen in the living room." She throws her legs across my hips, and she kisses every square inch of skin on my face. I set us down on top of the couch, I on top of her and her beneath me. I slip her shirt over her head, and the space between us was too much. She presses my lips to hers, but I pull back.

"This is a bad idea," I say. "Very bad idea."

She lightly kisses me, but it's different from all of the other kisses we've shared. This is light and non-urgent. It isn't rushed.

"It's wrong, but we'll do it anyway, because we love a bit of trouble," she tells me.

"You fascinate me."

"Tobias, your mother is downstairs. Are you busy with… um, are you busy?" the speaker asks. Michelle.

I groan. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I get up and press the button so I can speak back.

"Send her up."

"You need to put on your shirt and we need to straighten up this whole apartment. All in, well, about thirty seconds," I tell her as I run into the office. I close our laptops, then run into my room and throw on a sweatshirt.

"Fuck," I say. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I see Tris scrambling in the kitchen to clean things up, and then she moves along to the living room.

I walk over to her with a smirk and straighten her hair. I run my hands through it and it lays out perfectly.

"You're beautiful," I tell her. I lie my palm on her cheek and jawline, then I give her a light kiss.

The elevator dings and we spring apart. Hopefully she didn't see.

My hope is short-lived.

"Tobias Eaton!" she yells with her jaw wide as can be. "The rumors—they're true?"

"Mom. Hi. Tris, this is Evelyn Johnson. Mom, Tris Prior, my… colleague… That I kiss."

"Oh, come on, Tobias, don't bullshit me. It's nice to meet you, Tris," she says with a kind smile toward my girl.

She shakes her hand, and Tris quietly says, "It's nice to meet you too."

"Okay. I won't _bullshit_ you." I wrap arms above Tris's shoulders, squishing her to the point where is smushed against me. "This is Tris Prior. My enemy, rival, and competition by day. But by night, she's my lover. We're not dating, but I think we'd both like to."

Without moving, Tris whispers, "Publicity stunt, remember? Everything that happened outside of this apartment was a publicity stunt."

"So why are you here, Ma?" I let Tris go, and then I sit on the couch. She sits down next to me while my mom sits in a singular chair perpendicular to the couch.

"Have you watched the news or been online at _all_ since about seven o'clock?"

I shrug. "Tris and I have been working."

"Working on making-out," she mumbles.

"Evelyn!" I yell with a laugh. "That's not true."

"Hm. The wrinkled sofa and slightly out of place hair can say a lot. Oh, and Tris's shirt was tucked in during the day—you can see the obvious wrinkle marks," my mother says with a kind smile. "Nothing against you though, sweetie," she gears toward Tris. "I actually sent a letter to you a few months ago and you and your advice are the reason I've decided to remarry. Thank you."

Tris shyly smiles and looks down. "You're welcome, Ms. Johnson."

"Oh, please, call me Evelyn. And, Tobias, do tell how you roped in such a sweet girl?"

I shrug and smirk as I look at Tris. "I don't know, but I'm glad I did."

"Okay. You're going to make me throw up," she says, laughing. "I'll just go. You two can pick up where you left off. I don't want to be here for that."

I hear Tris give a quiet chuckle, and so does my mother. "It was very nice meeting you Tris."

"Lovely to meet you too, Evelyn," Tris says, extending her hand.

Mom shakes it, and I can tell Tris is a little proud.

We stand and I walk my mother to the elevator without Tris. She remains on the couch, twiddling her thumbs.

"If you hurt her," she says, "you'd be making a huge mistake. You need to be careful with this one."

"I know that already."

"Good," she answers as she hugs me. "Now, remember to use protect—"

"Mom!" I harshly whisper. "We're not going to have sex. Tris… she isn't like that. We've only been talking for about a week. She doesn't just go whoring around."

She smirks. "Then I like her even more."

The elevator dings, and my mom steps in. "Goodnight, Tobias."

"Night, Ma."

I breathe out when the door closes, and I go back to the couch where Tris lies there, smirking.

"I'm glad to know you don't think I whore around."

I laugh and stand above her, crossing my arms. "I thought I was being discreet."

She shrugs. "You were. I just know how to read lips."

She grabs my hand and pulls me down onto the couch. She pulls me closer, and when our lips are nearly touching, she says, "I get major butterflies when I'm with you. Just wanted to let you know that, because when major butterflies happen, it's a rarity."

"Fuck butterflies," I say, "I get the whole zoo when I'm with you, Tris." I kiss her with such a feeling that I could have ten or one hundred zoos. Lots of zoos.

Lots and lots of zoos.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _Just kidding about the whole 5-7 chapters… We're leaning toward two-three now._

* * *

 _Day #1: Don't act too nice; they'll get suspicious. You gotta play it cool. Act casual. A little bit of winking or flirting here and there. You must keep them much farther than arm's length. Make them wonder. Make them want you before you can even consider wanting them. If you're normally rude, continue doing so, except at a smaller scale._

 _Day #2: Act as if nothing happened on day one. Completely ignore them. Don't even think about hitting them up. You stand your ground._

 _Day #3: Keep things interesting. If you know they're passionate about something, talk about that thing. Intrigue her to the point where he/she finds_ you _intriguing, i.e., if they love music, start listening to their favorite band and discuss it. However, if you take it too far, they will get suspicious. Suspicion is the worst possible thing when you're trying to get your enemy to fall for you._

 _Day #4: Incorporate some flirty touching. That is so, so important. Let them know you're slightly interested, but keep it on the DL. Don't put too many ideas in their head. And also, don't confuse them. For the love of God, do_ not _confuse them. They will give up on you if you play that game too long._

 _Day #5: Ask them if they'd like to grab some lunch on your break together (applied if you go to school or work with your rival). Everyone knows lunch dates are_ not _dates. If you want to make your intentions more clear, ask him/her out on a date during the evening. But if you happen to go that route, do not—and I repeat,_ do not _—take them to some fancy restaurant or make it seem like a true date. Lunch dates are the best option; it doesn't convey too much interest, but it also tells them that you want to see them._

 _There may be slight altercations. If life throws some plot twists at you, you've just got to go with it. A few days in between is totally and perfectly normal._

 _Day #6: Depending on how the date went, talk to them the next day. Let the relationship progress on. Time can do a lot for you. Depending on how fast you enemy take the relationship, you can possibly go in for some friendly hugs._

 _Day #7: Fuck._

I look at what I've written so far. For day seven, I'm fucked. Today is day seven. I hastily close my laptop shut, trying not to think of the future. Just have to take things day-by-day. Live in the moment.

 _You know, it's been, like, 47 hours since I've last seen you? I think I'm going through withdrawal._

A text. That was what she said to me at 4:59. At 5:01, I say, _Let's fix that._

5:03, Tris. _Sears Tower?_

At this, my eyes bulge.

5:04, myself. _Tris. I'm absolutely terrified of heights._

5:07, Tris. _But you went up in the ferris wheel with me…_

5:10, myself. _A) we were running from a paparazzi mob. B) It was a last resort. C) You were distracting me most of the time._

5:13, Tris. _Yeah. "Distracted." So where to?_

5:15, myself. _Let's improvise. The coffee shop across the street from Willis?_

5:16, Tris. _I always forget it's called the Willis Tower now. But yeah, meet you there in ten._

5:18, myself. _Looking forward to it, love._

I pack up my things with my laptop in my bag and throw it over my shoulder.

When I meet her here around 5:30, I realize I am there before her, so I order her what she likes, a french vanilla with two creams and two sugars, and mine plain black.

When I sit on the couch, I pull out my laptop and bring up _How to Get Your Enemy to Fall for You in 14 Days._ I try to come up with something to write for day seven, but I just _can't._ I physically and mentally cannot bring myself to write this any longer.

And again, I contradict myself by typing the following words:

 _Continue acting normally. If your enemy hasn't ditched you by now, they're probably already in the process of falling. The rest is up to you._

I change the title to _How to Get Your Enemy to Fall For You in 7 Days._ My editor will ecstatic. I, however, will not be.

"I guess you couldn't put up with me for another seven days, huh? You just had to finish it today?"

I quickly shut my laptop. "Tris."

She purses her lips, and then opens them to speak.

"How to get you enemy to fall for you in 14 days," she says. "Bloody fucking hell, Tobias, I should've known. I should've _fucking known._ "

"No, Tris, please, hear me out—"

She shakes her head. "No. Have fun getting readers on that. I'm sure it'll blow up, Four. A national craze," Tris says, dryly chuckling. "I hope you are successful." Then she spins on her heel and walks out of the coffee shop.

As fast as I can, I put my laptop in my bag and run after her.

"Tris," I say, gently grabbing her arm. "Please."

She smacks my arm away and stands still in the middle of the empty sidewalk. "Don't you _dare_ touch me, Tobias."

"I never wanted to write that article. My editor suggested it and my father wanted it to happen. I never meant to lie to you, Tris. I was going to talk to my boss about it tomorrow, dissuade her to publishing it. I never meant to hurt you or lie to you or lead you on… I just didn't expect that _I'd_ be the one falling, Tris."

Tris shakes her head. Then she softly whispers, "How can I ever trust another thing you say? One lie is enough to question all truths, Tobias. One lie."

"I know. And I'm sorry for that. But I need you. I don't want you. I _need_ you, Tris. I know that I've only known you for, like, a week and half, but I've grown to really care about you. I don't want to go back to my life without you."

"Looks like you're gonna have to."

I stand in the sidewalk for a solid five minutes before realizing how much of an idiot I am.

* * *

Today is Monday, and also the day Tris and I's column will be published. Our last column.

I've given my column, _How To Get Your Enemy to Fall For You in 7 (+4 extra) Days_ , to my editor. She loves it, mainly because of the fact that I shortened it to seven. Well, almost.

The Montrose Mirror's secretary picks up the phone. "Montrose Beach Mirror Newspaper how can I assist you?"

"This is Tobias Eaton."

"Oh. Mr. Eaton, I've been notified that our partnership and affiliation with you and the Burnham Park Bee has been… eradicated, sir."

"Yes, that is true. Can you connect me to Tris Prior?"

Silence on the line.

"You don't know," she said as a fact, rather than a question. "She's packing up her office right now."

I set down the pen I'm twirling. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, she's found another job—"

I hang up and I bolt out of the office.

"Four! Four, where are you going?" my editor yells.

"To go get my girl."

When I arrive at Tris's work, it's twenty minutes later due to the subway ride. I immediately run into where I know her office is, and she turns around with a box in her hands. When she sees me, she almost drops the box.

"Tobias," she says softly. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get you back. Trying to get you _not_ to quit."

"There's nothing you can do."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I've already taken the job. I'm becoming a counselor at a local high school a little bit south of downtown. There was an opening, and when I went in for an interview Friday the school board wanted me. Not just because of reputation either."

I give a sad, small smile. "That's right. You double-majored in psychology and creative writing. Both good for being an advice columnist or school counselor. I just didn't think you'd be doing it so soon. You talked about it like it was going to happen in twenty years. Not the next week."

She shrugs. "Life happens. You kind of just gave me the push I needed."

I nod and then look down.

"I'm not mad at you, Tobias. Just… disappointed. Disappointed that we couldn't be something more."

"But we _can_ be, Tris."

She shakes her head. "No," she says, "we can't."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _To be clear: When I say "fall for" I don't mean they're in love. One week is unreasonably fast for people to fall in love. "Falling" for someone in this story basically just means they've gotten extremely lucky and they have much potential for what could be. Also, there's only one more chapter, then the epilogue :)_

* * *

 **-Tris-**

* * *

"Young Adults of East Lake High, please welcome your new counselor, Ms. Prior., formerly known as Provoking Prior of the Montrose Beach Mirror."

The principal introduces my name in the auditorium, and students give a thunderous applause. We are here to recognize the volleyball team and cross country teams that won state, and also to introduce myself.

"Hello, student body," I say once they've settled. "I'm Ms. Prior. You can call me Tris. Ms. P. Prior. Whatever. I don't mind. As most of you know, I previously quit my job as an advice columnist about two weeks ago to become your counselor. When I was in college, I double-majored in psychology and creative writing, so I am very qualified for this job," I tell them with a smile. I don't use notecards or a piece of paper. I simply am winging it. "I know it may take a while for you all to trust me, but once you get to know me, I can be pretty easy-going. I'll share a little about myself to get you guys started off.

"I have brother. His name is Caleb and he lives in California at the age of 28. I have one niece and one nephew whom I love very much. My parents passed away when I was 19 in a car crash, and that was pretty horrible for me. I was able to get through it though. The same way you guys can get through anything. Even high school.

"I worked at the Mirror for a total of two years, and I met a man named Four in the process of. He was a pretty great guy. And, to let you in on a little secret, we weren't actually rivals, despite popular opinion," I say, chuckling.

"So that's my life. I can't wait for you guys to share yours. Any questions?"

I pick a girl in a pink shirt. "Were you and Four an item?"

I chuckle. "That is off-topic. You may ask again if you schedule a session," I tell her with a wink.

A guy in a green shirt is next. "'Are you single?' is the real question."

I laugh, along with the rest of the students. "Yes. But that is highly irrelevant and also inappropriate, Mr. Green Shirt."

"Are there any valid questions?" I ask.

Every hand goes down.

I chuckle. "All right. Thanks for your time. Oh, and how about another round of applause for those volleyball and cross country teams?" I ask with a cheer.

Hoots and hollers and claps fill the gymnasium.

About an hour later, I make my way home. Luckily I will be moving closer to ELHS in a few days.

When I arrive home, I sigh at the sight of all the packing I still have to do before I move into my new house on Wednesday. I turn on my headphones up to its highest volume level. I begin to pack my things in the kitchen.

I turn on Passion Pit for a happy, go-lucky mood.

It doesn't work. Primarily because I absolutely cannot keep my mind off of Tobias.

I'm reminded of my favorite band from high school. I occasionally listen to them, but it was mostly a phase back then. Usually when I'm angry or sad I'll give them a good listen. Sometimes both. Frequently after listening to them, I found myself with blown off steam and felt much better than I did before listening to them.

So I turn on the rock band that helps me deal. Cope. Accept. Whatever bullshit therapist word that can be used. But I know that if I play no music, the silence would guide my mind into places I don't want to be.

The bass and guitar filter through my ear, and the intense but meaningful lyrics flow throughout my thoughts.

"I, I can be your painkiller, killer, killer," I sing, more so, _angrily yell_. "Love me till it's all over, over, over... But did you find another killer?"

Turns out I'm much more productive when I have music playing, and I've already gotten half the cabinets cleared out by the end of the song.

"You're sick of feeling numb, you're not the only one, I'll take you by the hand and I'll show you a world you can understand. This life is filled with hurt when happiness doesn't work; trust me and take my hand when the lights go out you'll understand... I like it rough, cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all."

When I'm finished with the cabinets, I begin to clean the kitchen.

I feel my phone vibrate against my back pocket, and I check to see who it is.

Tobias. 5:24 PM. _I can hear your headphones through the door._

I crease my eyebrows and walk over to the door, making no motion to stop playing any music.

Creaking the door open, I spot a very tall, good-looking man, as I expected. Whom, of course, is Tobias. Who else?

"Tobias. What a surprise. Do come in," I say, opening the door wider. I can't even hear myself speak.

"What're you doing?" he asks curiously. He knows I'm moving, but not that I'm cleaning.

"Cleaning," I say with simple shrug. I set my headphones down on the closest stack of box.

He looks confused. "You hate cleaning, Tris."

I slightly look down. "Better than falling apart."

When I look up to see a sorrowful and upset look on his face, I say, "What're doing here?"

"I was going to see if you needed any help moving your things. Or a hand with anything. Anything at all."

"The only thing I _need_ from you is to stay away," I tell him as I inch closer, little by little, contradicting words. Looks like in the battle of head vs. heart, the latter is currently winning.

"Tris," he says. "We have nothing holding us back. _Nothing._ "

"You lied to me, Tobias!" I yell. "Are you forgetting that?"

"Tris, if you would just _read_ what I pub—"

"Why would I want to read that?" I ask with a harsh laugh. "You really don't understand anything, Tobias, do you?"

He stays silent. Then, "Just…." He pulls out a newspaper from his laptop case. "Read it. Please. If you read it, I know you'll meet me at the beach near the Navy Pier at 8 o'clock tonight. If you don't… then I guess I've gotten my answer."

He steps closer, and then he places a light kiss on my lips. I kiss back, surprising myself, and then he steps back, and he walks out. Either out of my life, or out of the simple door like anyone else would.

I haven't decided yet.

I pick up the newspaper, treating it like fine china in my hands.

 **How to Get Your Enemy to Love You in 7 (+4 extra) Days**

 **by Four**

 _Note: There may be slight altercations. If life throws some plot twists at you, you've just got to go with it. A few days in between is totally and perfectly normal._

 _Day #1: Don't act too nice; they'll get suspicious. You gotta play it cool. Act casual. A little bit of winking or flirting here and there. You must keep them much farther than arm's length. Make them wonder. Make them want you before you can even consider wanting them. If you're normally rude, continue doing so, except at a smaller scale._

 _Day #2: Act as if nothing happened on day one. Completely ignore them. Don't even think about hitting them up. You stand your ground._

 _Day #3: Keep things interesting. If you know they're passionate about something, talk about that thing. Intrigue her to the point where he/she finds_ you _intriguing, i.e., if they love music, start listening to their favorite band and discuss it. However, if you take it too far, they will get suspicious. Suspicion is the worst possible thing when you're trying to get your enemy to fall for you._

 _Day #4: Incorporate some flirty touching. That is so, so important. Let them know you're slightly interested, but keep it on the DL. Don't put too many ideas in their head. And also, don't confuse them. For the love of God, do_ not _confuse them. They will give up on you if you play that game too long._

 _Day #5: Ask them if they'd like to grab some lunch on your break together (applied if you go to school or work with your rival). Everyone knows lunch dates are_ not _dates. If you want to make your intentions more clear, ask him/her out on a date during the evening. But if you happen to go that route, do not—and I repeat,_ do not _—take them to some fancy restaurant or make it seem like a true date. Lunch dates are the best option; it doesn't convey too much interest, but it also tells them that you want to see them._

 _Day #6: Depending on how the date went, talk to them the next day. Let the relationship progress on. Time can do a lot for you. Depending on how fast you enemy take the relationship, you can possibly go in for some friendly hugs._

 _Day #7: The day you realize you're probably falling for them and you realize that if you're still attempting to win them over, that you'll most likely end up really caring for them._

 _The rest is up to you. But if you're an idiot like I am, then the following four steps will occur:_

 _Day #8: The day you realize you're definitely falling for them._

 _Day #9: This is around the day that your enemy realizes you've been following this column and using it as a reference point. Then they'll likely get upset with you._

 _Day #10: You try to win them back. You fail._

 _Day #11: You realize you can't take anyone's advice but your heart's. You realize that love will transpire from the heart. Not some advice column._

 _So that's the basic summary of what your life will be like if you so choose to go through with this advice. The only reason I know this is because I went through it myself first-hand. Many of you readers are likely wondering who I've done this experiment on. It's quite obvious though._

 _The girl that's my arch enemy. The girl that's my rival. The girl that's my adversary._

 _The girl that got me falling for her in 11 days._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _Beware: Very short chapter. It's a closing resolution to the story. Not gonna lie. Slightly cliché. Kinda sucks. Epilogue is next chapter._

* * *

I anxiously tap my foot as I wait. My patience is running thinner by the minute. I don't handle these situations very well. I get more anxious second by second.

She's ten minutes late. It's 8:10. She won't show. And Tris is, like, never late. I begin to walk.

I guess I have my answer.

In the lights of the trail beside the beach, I see someone running. Specifically, a blonde ball of hair bobbing up and down. I feel a small smile creep onto my face.

She doesn't say anything as she runs toward me.

"Tobias!" she yells. "Wait!"

When she reaches me, she's about breathless. "I'm sorry. The L-train was late and I—"

I cut her off with a kiss. She isn't expecting it, and she freezes.

"I'm sorry. You haven't forgiven me yet. I get it. I'm sorry," I say, chuckling.

She shyly smiles. "You're right. I haven't forgiven you. But that has nothing to do with the fact that I want you to shut up and kiss me."

I kiss her again, but lightly this time as I smile.

"I don't give third chances," Tris says softly, "so you better not screw this up."

"I'm lucky I got a second."

She smiles and plays with the collar of my leather jacket. "Very. Very lucky. But so am I."

I shrug. "I guess you kinda are. You know. Having me and all. I _am_ pretty great."

"Oh, shush," she says, lightly hitting me on the chest. "Besides, I think I'm the great one. After all, I did get you to fall for me in eleven days," says Tris with a wink.

"I think you fell for me too. Don't lie to me, Prior."

She shrugs. "Maybe a little."

"A little?" I ask, smirking.

She shrugs yet again. "A little. Maybe."

I lightly kiss her lips, and then I grab her hand, pulling her off the beach.

"Spending the night?" I ask, smiling a shit-eating grin.

She smirks. "Will there be activities involved?"

I laugh. "Depends. I can't offer skydiving, but I _can_ give you some other pretty exciting activities."

Then, flirtatiously she adds, "On the couch, of course."

I laugh. "Yes, because nothing can happen on the couch. But we could end up in the bedroom, and we both know everything can happen in the bedroom."

She laughs. "Let's keep it on the couch." Then she winks.

When we arrive, she looks around. "I love your place," she says, "but you should really see my new house. beautiful. I mean, it's a normal suburban home, but, I don't know. I just love it."

I smile. "I'd love to see it sometime. You know. When you actually move in and stuff."

She shrugs. "Minor detail."

Grinning, I say, "C'mon. Let's go and participate in some activities."


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue**

* * *

I nervously rub my hands together backstage.

"She's going to say no," I tell my students as I pace. "She's going to reject me, and she's going to leave me, and she's going to hate me."

"Eaton," Brooklyn says. "Chill your tits. Prior loves you. Everyone knows it. There's no way you two _won't_ get married. Okay?"

"Brooklyn, you're a junior in high school. How do you know?"

"Oh, please, everyone in Fire & Ice knows it. And besides, we've been practicing weeks for this performance. You can't back out now. And just imagine how _awkward_ it'd be if she said no. There's no way."

I groan. "You're awfully reasonable for a seventeen-year-old kid."

She shrugs. "I know. Curtains open in five. Better be ready."

"Got it."

I pace backstage a little bit more. I'm not nervous for my students' performance; they are very capable kids that deserve to be in the Fire & Ice talent program at this high school. I'm just nervous for the answer Tris will be giving me in about thirty to forty minutes.

It's been a year and a half since she became a counselor at ELHS. I quit my job as an advice columnist a few short months after that when there was an opening at WLHS. She works at East Lake, and I at West Lake. We took it as a sign that we were simply destined to be enemies, but kept working our way around it.

I moved into her house about six months ago, and I'm pretty sure she's been waiting for the day I'd pop the question.

That doesn't change that fact that I'm about to shit myself though.

I take deep breaths, just like how I tell my students to before they sing.

 _Everything's fine. She loves you. She'll say yes. And besides, you always talk about having a family with her. It's always been a matter of when though. You'll be fine, Tobias. Suck it up._

I stop chastising myself because I need to get on stage.

I grab the microphone and smile. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. So glad you all could make it out here tonight. Now, I could give you all the speech about how each and every one of these students are talented, but I won't. Don't get me wrong; they are talented beyond the point of explanation. But I know you all have heard it before. So I'll save you these extra minutes. So, without further ado, I present: Fire & Ice."

 _Deep breaths,_ Tris's words ring in my mind. I swipe my hands against the piano, and I begin to play.

Toward the end, I get more nervous as time ticks by. I get up just before the last song and speak to the audience once again.

"I just wanted to thank everybody who made this possible. Each and every one of these students, my assistant director, Mariah Nottingham, and, my rock, Tris Prior. This one's for her."

She wears a surprised smile across her face as she sits in the front row. She knows something is up.

I simply press the keys, and that's enough to calm me down.

"Oh, it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you. Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice? Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you."

At the last sentence, 13 out of the 22 students lift their signs with a singular letter in a wave-like motion, spelling out:

"Tris, marry me?"

I don't look anywhere but the keys. Then I turn to see Tris standing up in awe at the sight.

Shakily, I stand up and walk over to where she stands. I get down on one knee, and the audience goes nuts.

Then, ever so quietly, I say, "Marry me, Tris." I don't ask. It's more of an insistence. An offer.

She slightly nods, tears gathering in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Yes," she whispers. "I would love to marry you, Tobias."

I jump up, and then I tackle her in a hug. "Perfect, because my last name sounds fitting with your first."

She smiles up at me. "Tobias and Tris Eaton."

I nod. "I like it. I like it a lot."

She shrugs. "Doesn't sound too bad, I guess."

"Yeah," I say, looking down at her. "Not too bad."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**

Hello, it is I. Hope you're having a great day. I know I am. I've written a lot on my new story.

I hope you enjoyed Piano Keys. It was pretty fun to write.

So, as some of you know, I will not be posting from this account anymore. People frequently say that the only reason people read my stuff is because I'm "popular" on this site now. I will begin posting from a new account. I've already created that account, which I will not be revealing the name to. I have told a few choice people, but that is all. If you can somehow coerce or persuade me into giving you my pen name, then good luck. It'll be hard. But I'm really excited to start from the bottom again. I won't be deleting this account. It'll still be up for people to reread my stories, because many have told me they like doing so. I hope everyone can understand this. My first story on my new account will be posted today- February 7th. And yes, it will be in the Divergent category.

And just now realizing this, this is the last thing I'll be posting as _yesfangirlingismylife._ Kinda weird. This account has been through it all with me. I posted my first story June 12th, 2014. It's now been two years I've been writing, and I still would rather do nothing else than this. I love each and every one you guys who've been reading my stories ever since _I Try_ and even if you just found this account today.

I didn't realize I needed you all so much.

 _-yesfangirlingismylife_


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